Troll Blood

Harald shook his hair. “I think we’ll find Thorolf and his men right where we left them,” he said, smiling. “I don’t think he had any plans to leave.”

Ralf leaned forwards, rubbing his hands. “Didn’t he, now? Maybe you’re right. It’s a wonderful land. Those green forests, full of game—the rivers bursting with fish. No wonder Thorolf wants to make a home there. And you, you’re on your way back?”

Harald nodded. “We have two good solid houses in a sheltered bay, with a river running out of the woods, and good anchorage in the river mouth. We named it Serpent’s Bay—because of the two ships, Long Serpent and Water Snake.”

And I suppose that was your clever idea, thought Peer, watching mesmerised as a dried bean bounced off Harald’s shoulder and skittered across the table. Sigurd noticed it this time. He nudged Sigrid, and the pair of them glanced upwards and giggled.

Arnë broke in eagerly. “Ralf, why don’t you come with us? That’s why I brought Gunnar here. He’s looking for another man, and I told him you’ve always talked about another voyage.”

Gudrun, who’d been going round the table with the jug, knocked Arnë’s cup over. Ale washed across the table. Sigrid jumped up for a cloth, but Gudrun stood stock-still, eyes fixed on Ralf.

“Arnë’s right.” Gunnar wiped his face and looked steadier. “It’s like this, Ralf: my old crew split up over the winter. On the profits of the last trip, some of them got married or bought land, and didn’t want to set out again this season. So I’ve been looking for new men. Picked up a couple in Hammerhaven—Arnë for one—but there’s room for another. Interested?” He didn’t wait for Ralf to reply, but went on,”Here’s the plan. Setting out this early, we ought to reach Vinland by midsummer. The Greenlanders will pay anything for good timber, and it’s there for the taking, great tall oaks and pines. Spend the winter trapping—fox and beaver. The place belongs to no one. No kings, no laws. It’s all free. You can carve yourself a piece of land and be absolute master. Think about it. You could come home and buy Gudrun a gold necklace. Or a couple of cows or more land, whatever you like. What do you say?”

“I knew you’d ask,” said Ralf slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it all evening, deciding what to do…”

Gunnar sat back. “Good! Let’s drink to it.”

”…but I’m needed on the farm,” Ralf went on. “Sigurd’s not old enough to manage, and the last time I went away Gudrun had all sorts of trouble with the trolls. I can’t leave her to cope alone.”

Gudrun’s eyes shone, but Gunnar’s whiskered cheeks creased uneasily. “Trolls? You have many trolls here?”

Ralf laughed, and waved his hand. “We live on Troll Fell, Gunnar.”

“Trolls.” Gunnar shuddered. “I hate ‘em. Unnatural vermin.”

Astrid seemed to stir. Her lips parted, but before she could speak another dried bean dropped from the rafters, splashing into Harald’s cup as he lifted it to his lips. Harald threw down the cup.

“That’s enough, you!” He pointed at Peer, who scrambled to his feet. “Do you think I’m going to put up with this?”

Everyone stared. Harald put his hands on the table and leaned forward menacingly. “You’ve been throwing beans at me, haven’t you, Barelegs? And you think it’s funny?”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Peer, seriously alarmed.

“It wasn’t Peer!” Sigrid cried.

“No. There’s something dodging about in the roof,” said Astrid, to Peer’s great surprise. Most people couldn’t see the Nis.

Everyone looked up into the smoky dark roof-space, cluttered with fishing nets, strings of onions, old hay-rakes and scythes.

The Nis flung down its fistful of beans. A stinging shower rattled on to Harald’s upturned face, and as he cursed and ducked, the Nis followed it up by bouncing some small wrinkled apples off his back. Then it could be heard drumming its heels against the beam, and sniggering: “Tee-hee-hee!”

Astrid’s face sharpened into a triangular smile. “There it is!” she breathed, fixing her eyes on a spot above Harald’s head. The sniggering broke off.

“Where?” Harald spun round, golden hair spraying out. He dragged out his sword and angled it up, craning his neck to see into the rafters.

Everyone leaped to their feet. The dogs began barking. “Put that sword away,” called Ralf. “Someone’ll get hurt!”

“No swords in this house!” cried Gudrun.

“My apologies,” said Harald between his teeth. “There’s something up there. Stand back, and let me deal with it.” He put a foot on the bench, obviously preparing to spring up on to the table. Peer heard a frightened squeak from the Nis.

“There it goes!” Peer shot out his arm and pointed. “Look, a troll! Running along that rafter, can’t you see?” His finger followed the imaginary troll from beam to beam. “It’s over the fire—oh!” He let his arm drop.

“What? Where?” gasped Gudrun, half-convinced.

“It went out through the smoke-hole,” said Peer with disappointment in his voice.

“Then it’s on the roof.” Harald sprang for the door, Arnë and Gunnar and the dogs close behind him. Ralf followed more slowly, giving Peer the flicker of a wink.

Peer thought he had better dash for the door, too. He caught Hilde’s eye and said loudly, “Let’s hope they catch it!” Hilde was laughing silently.

The twins were already crowding outside, while Gudrun tried to pull them back: “Harald’s got a sword out there!”

Then the wind was fresh on Peer’s face. The moon skimmed between the clouds like a stone skipping over water, filling the yard with scuttling shadows. Harald was making Arnë give him a leg up on to the farmhouse’s thick turf roof. Gunnar stood squarely in the patch of light from the open door, squinting up under his good hand. “Go on, son,” he shouted. “A roof’s no place to hide. We’ll not be fooled by that again…”

“I never thought he could have climbed up,” said Harald over his shoulder.

What were they talking about? Peer looked at Ralf, who shrugged and said in a low voice, “I guess they’ve had adventures before.”

Harald walked along the roof ridge, sword in hand, a sinister silhouette against the sky. The moonlight silvered his blowing hair. Peer shivered suddenly, and Ralf too must have felt uncomfortable about this prowling figure on his own roof, for he called out, “It’s gone; you’ve missed it. Come on down.”

But the dogs, who had been running about eagerly with their noses down, began to bark and growl, and make little dashes at a blackly-shadowed corner of the yard near the cowshed.

“Don’t tell me they’ve found a real troll,” Ralf muttered. He crossed the yard in a couple of quick strides, Peer beside him, Gunnar close behind.

In the angle of the wall was a crawling darkness the size of a small child. “Gods!” Gunnar’s voice clotted with horror. “Look at that. Where’s its head?”

Peer’s skin prickled. Then he saw the troll had merely crouched down, wrapping skinny arms protectively over its head. Its bare flanks gleamed dimly like oiled leather. There was a sound of chewing, and a strong stink of old herrings. So it had been robbing the fish-drying racks!

Ralf clapped his hands. “Go on! Get out of here! Shoo!” he shouted.

A pair of luminous green eyes winked open. The troll gaped in threat, and produced a dry, frightening hiss, accompanied by an even stronger smell of fish. Ralf dragged the dogs away by their collars. “Stand back, Peer—give it a chance to run.”

Behind them, Harald leaped into the yard. He staggered, touching a hand to the ground to steady himself; then he was up, his naked blade glinting. “Out of my way!” he shouted, running at the troll.

The round green eyes scrunched into terrified half-moons. The troll dived away, fat sides pumping, long bald tail curving and switching. It scrambled around the corner of the cowshed. But Harald was faster. He threw himself forward and stamped down heavily on its tail, jerking it to a halt. The troll tugged and writhed to get free, squealing dreadfully. “Let it go! Let it go!” Ralf shouted. But Harald struck.

As the blow flashed down, the troll gave a final desperate wrench, and leaped crazily up the hillside as if shot from a catapult, leaving its narrow, tapering tail thrashing horribly under Harald’s boot. There was a sickening smell of stale armpits and rotten eggs.

Harald leaped back in disgust and slammed his sword into its sheath. Ralf and Arnë broke out coughing, and the dogs whined, wiping their noses on their paws. With a shiver of loathing, Gunnar turned away from the jerkily wriggling tail. Peer rubbed a hand over his eyes. What had he and the Nis begun?

“I need a drink after that,” said Ralf drily. He held open the farmhouse door and nodded for everyone to go in.

Gudrun, the twins and Hilde and Astrid clustered around the door.

“Was there really a troll?”

“What happened?”